


Have No Fear Your Wounds Will Heal

by lynnearlington



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-05
Updated: 2011-10-05
Packaged: 2017-10-24 08:08:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/261034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynnearlington/pseuds/lynnearlington
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brittany and Santana through the events of Asian F. Spoilers through 3.03.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Have No Fear Your Wounds Will Heal

Santana shouldn’t have try out for Anita. First of all, she’s Santana Lopez and second of all, she’s  _Santana Lopez._  

So she doesn’t.

Instead, she finds Artie in the parking lot after school with a ‘take instead of ask’ kind of strategy prepared. She’s all ready to do it too, but for whatever reason when he looks up at her through the black frames of his glasses, she starts to feel bad out of nowhere. It’s this completely annoying and irritating feeling; she wants to  _loathe_  this kid. 

But there’s a camaraderie between them because they’ve both been in love with a girl they couldn’t have - a girl they  _did_  have and then a girl they didn’t. They’ve loved the same girl and so there’s understanding there whether Santana wants there to be or not. 

Which is probably why she finds herself feeling bad - because they fought a war and she won, and suddenly she feels the need to be a gracious winner. Maybe part of it is because she knows what it feels like to have lost. 

“When are auditions for Anita?” is what comes out of her mouth against all earlier planning. 

He pushes his glasses up his nose nervously and she’s sure he’s waiting for her claws to come out. Evidence of the reputation she’s spent years cultivating pools warm satisfaction in her gut. “S-S-Santana, auditions are over. I’m sorry-.” 

She cuts him off with a finger in front of his face, almost laughing when his eyes cross. “Nah uh, Wheels. I said  _when_  are auditions for Anita?” 

Head shaking just enough to indicate brimming panic, Artie looks around before realizing he’s all alone in this parking lot with her. She smirks. 

“I suppose we could fit you in for a late audition tomorrow after glee.” 

Winking and twirling away, she waves her fingers a little. “See you then.” 

\--

She doesn’t tell Brittany about auditioning and she’s not sure exactly why. Maybe it’s because she’s embarrassed that she’s even trying out for something so lame - groveling her way back into glee club was bad enough - or maybe it’s because there’s this small insignificant part of her worried she might not get the part. Whatever the reason she decides to keep it all a secret until it’s over. 

It doesn’t take her long to figure out what song to sing - she grew up on West Side Story and she knows the songs by heart. It’s not something she likes to let people know, but whatever. It’s a classic;  _most_  people are familiar enough with it for it not to seem too nerdy. 

She prepares enough to feel confident about her chances, knows for sure that she’ll kill the song in the audition, but there’s a weight in the bottom of her stomach as she goes to sleep that night. The images of all the times she’s tried and  _failed_  flash across the backs of her eyelids and if it weren’t for the scent of Brittany’s shampoo on her pillow, a constant reminder that she finally  _did_  succeed, she wouldn’t be able to sleep at all. 

\--

Nervous isn’t something she is that often, but the next day she can barely pay attention in classes. 

Brittany notices as much in the middle of history, and  _seriously_  - why Santana thought she could hide anything from this girl...

“You okay?” It comes whispered and low as their teacher turns her back to the class. 

“Good,” Santana nods quickly, but she knows the nervous tapping of her leg is giving her away. She’s able to stop her fidgeting long enough to give Brittany a tight smile. “I’m fine.” 

Brittany’s brow furrows in skepticism, but she doesn’t say anything else. Class continues and Santana’s back to singing her audition song over and over again in her head, her leg beginning to shake like before. 

Then, like something she never thought she’d finally have, a warm palm covers Santana’s bare thigh, and just the feel of it calms her racing heart. Suddenly her thoughts shoot from the audition she has to go to later to the way Brittany’s fingers are moving softly over her skin. 

Brittany’s staring at her, head propped up by the elbow resting on the desk they share. There’s worry in the lines around Brittany’s eyes, but she’s smiling softly and it gives Santana what she needs to take a deep breath and relax. A few seconds later and she’s able to smile back at her, the expression no longer stretching tightly across her face. 

That seems to appease Brittany who turns back to class, but the palm on her thigh, the one dangerously close to the edge of her skirt never leaves. 

Santana spends the rest of class distracted for things completely unrelated to her audition. 

\--

There’s this thing Brittany does with Santana’s hair. It’s subtle, and simple, but she’ll play with the ends of Santana’s ponytail, tugging lightly and twisting the strands around her fingers. 

Brittany does it all the time, in different kinds of scenarios, but she does it most when she’s worried. Santana thinks it’s ridiculous because like doesn’t Brittany have her  _own_  hair to nervously play with? But she’d never say that. At this point it’s probably one of the most comforting things Brittany does. 

They’re eating lunch on the back lawn of the school, enjoying the last few days of warm weather before the chill of autumn drops over them. Santana’s stretching her legs out in front of her, touching her toes with the tips of her fingers when Brittany’s fingers trace up her spine slowly until they’re tugging at the strands of Santana’s ponytail. 

She lets it happen for a little bit, sitting up and moving closer to the touch. It feels good, comfortable and reminds Santana of how things are kind of going her way lately. 

“What’s wrong?” she murmurs after a while, turning her head a bit to look at Brittany. 

“Nothing,” Brittany answers, fingers still running through dark hair. 

“You’re worried,” Santana counters. 

“You’re worried,” Brittany replies knowingly. “Why?” 

Turning away to hide the confirmation she’s sure is all over her face, Santana laughs. “I am not.” 

Brittany doesn’t say anything else, just keeps touching Santana lightly. It goes on for a minute before Brittany’s scooting closer and pressing a warm quick kiss to Santana’s cheek. 

“Whatever you’re worried about will be fine,” she whispers. 

Another protest is nearly out of her mouth, but when she turns to look into knowing blue eyes, she swallows it. “Thanks,” she croaks out. 

\--

So she kills the audition.  _Kills_  it. 

When she walks out of the auditorium, Brittany is leaned up against the lockers on the opposite side of the hall, typing away on her cell phone and Santana has to swallow against the yelp of surprise that nearly comes out of her. 

“Hi,” she draws out slowly, wondering how Brittany knew to be there. 

Brittany’s head whips up and when she sees Santana her face spreads into a smile. Putting her phone in the Cheerios bag over her shoulder she walks forward and links her arm through Santana’s, pulling them towards the exit. “Hey you.” 

Santana laughs, but she follows wherever Brittany leads. “How did you know I was here?” 

“You were auditioning for the musical.” 

Embarrassment is creeping up through her, but Santana pushes it away. “How do you know that?” 

“Artie texted me.” 

“Artie,” Santana repeats. 

Brittany looks at her innocently as they make their way out to the parking lot. “Yeah.” 

Jealousy is right there, shooting across the surface of her skin, but she reminds herself that she  _won_ , that Brittany’s arm is locked through hers and that Brittany’s allowed to have friends. She settles for intertwining her fingers with Brittany’s and bringing their hands up to press a kiss to the top of Brittany’s. The fact that she can do it, that she doesn’t have to hesitate shoots all the jealousy straight out of her. 

“Sorry I didn’t tell you,” she says.

Brittany shrugs like it doesn’t matter. “That’s okay. You didn’t have to.” 

“Were you waiting for me?” 

“Duh.” 

“Thanks,” Santana says softly, turning away for a second when she can feel a flush crawl up her cheeks. 

“What kind of girlfriend would I be if I wasn’t here to support you?” 

And that, that just makes Santana want to lay Brittany down right there on the sidewalk outside of their school and do all kind of indecent things to her body. It’s like she can’t hear the word  _girlfriend_  drop out of Brittany’s mouth these days without her stomach clenching pleasurably. “You’re kinda great, you know?” 

Brittany smiles warmly. “I know.” 

They get to Santana’s car and she grabs Brittany’s bag to throw in the backseat before getting in herself. 

“You’ll totally get the part,” Brittany says as they drive home. 

Her hands squeeze the steering wheel a little tighter, but she forces her eyes to stay on the road. “You think?” 

“Definitely,” Brittany says. She reaches over and peels Santana’s right hand away from the wheel, twisting their fingers together again and letting them rest on the console between them. “I’ll be class president and you’ll be star of the musical and we will rule this school.” 

Santana laughs, but the tension is ebbing out of her, warmed by the grip Brittany has on her hand. “Anita’s not the lead, Britt.” 

Brittany shrugs, squeezes her hand. “So? Doesn’t mean you won’t steal the show.” 

If someone had told her last year that she’d love Brittany now more than ever before she’d have laughed. She spent a year waiting to hear Brittany say three little words to her and now, with Brittany smiling from the passenger seat she  _feels_  them more than she ever thought possible. 

“I love you,” Santana whispers, glancing briefly at Brittany and kissing her hand again. 

\--

When Artie posts the cast list Santana does her best to act cool and nonchalant. Brittany walks over with her, pinkies linked and for some reason that makes her a little nervous, but she doesn’t let it show. The last thing she wants is to look uncool in front of Brittany. 

The list goes up, and Santana breathes a silent sigh of relief to see her name in black type next to  _Anita._  Her eyes go straight up, her head nods and she shrugs because  _duh_  she got the part. She’s Santana Lopez. 

She’d get away with the act too if Brittany wasn’t practically dancing next to her, celebratory squeals shooting out of her. The moment she turns to see Brittany’s face, all wide smiles and fresh happiness, Santana loses it. Her lips spread into the widest grin, and her face flushes as she lets herself bounce a little next to Brittany. 

“You got it!” Brittany’s arms are around her neck and their bodies are pressed tightly together.

“I got it!” 

“I’m so proud of you,” Brittany warbles in her ear. 

The rest of the students fade out of Santana’s consciousness and it’s just her and Brittany in the hallway, arms wrapped around each other. 

\--

That night, long after she and Brittany get to Santana’s house, eat and change and settle in for the evening, she’s still riding the high of getting the part. 

It shouldn’t matter to her as much as it does. It kind of bothers her that she’s this happy about a stupid high school musical, but Brittany’s just as exuberant about the whole thing and there’s no way she’d tell her to tone it down. 

They’re watching cartoons in Santana’s bed, Brittany curled into Santana’s side like she always is and Santana’s trying really hard not to notice the way Brittany’s fingers are tugging absently at the white strings of Santana’s grey sweatpants. 

The problem is she’s still coming down off all the nerves of the day and the excitement of finding out she got the part, and Brittany’s just extremely attractive. It’s really only human of her to be distracted by a gorgeous woman in her bed that she’s in love with. 

“Will you sing me your audition song?” Brittany picks her head up from Santana’s shoulder. 

“No,” Santana laughs out. 

“Why not?” 

Santana shrugs. “It’s weird.” 

“You sang it for Artie and Coach Beiste and Ms. Pillsbury...” 

“Yeah but I wasn’t in a bedroom alone with each of them.”  _Thank God_ , she thinks. 

“So...?” 

“So it’s kind of weird to sing to someone one on one.” 

Surprise flashes over Brittany’s face as she laughs. “Santana, you sing to me like that all the time.” 

Rolling her eyes, Santana runs her palm up Brittany’s back and pulls them closer together. “Okay fine, but I’m not singing now.” 

“Please,” Brittany says. “I just want to know what song you sang.” 

Brittany’s leg wraps around Santana’s tightly and that is just so not fair. Something about the way Brittany touches her wrecks Santana’s resolve completely. “I sang something from West Side Story. I was awesome. End of story.” 

“Santana,” Brittany whines. 

Taking a deep breath, Santana gears up like she’s going to belt out a tune before singing the first few lines of Melissa Etheridge’s  _Come to My Window._  It’s the first song that comes to her mind that isn’t her audition song and she doesn’t think twice about it until Brittany shoves her a little and cuts her off.

“That’s not from West Side Story! And why would you start singing that? It’s not an awesome memory.” 

It sobers Santana instantly as the memory of last year washes over her. “Sorry,” she mumbles, looking down into sad blue eyes. 

Brittany shrugs, but doesn’t say anything so Santana rolls them over, pushing her hips up and to the side until she’s hovering over Brittany. She presses their lips together softly, pecks kisses there for a long while until her pout starts to fade. 

As she presses kisses down Brittany’s jaw she hums the first few lines of Songbird into the skin there, trails one hand down Brittany’s stomach. 

“Thanks for being there today,” she whispers, her fingers crawling under the fabric of Brittany’s shirt and over toned muscles. “It really meant a lot.” 

Brittany’s hands find purchase in Santana’s hair and she can feel the mood shift. Smirking a little, Santana keeps her lips on Brittany’s neck as her fingers tweak a nipple and Brittany’s chest moves with a sharp inhale. 

“Where else would I have been?” Brittany manages to gasp out. 

The question stills Santana’s movement. She pulls her head up to look Brittany in the eye because there are a plethora of answers to that question, dozens of places Brittany could have been. The fact that Brittany didn’t see any other option, that she cared enough to figure it out and to be there for Santana makes her feel things she didn’t know she was capable of feeling. 

“I love you,” Santana breathes, serious and sure. 

Brittany smiles easily. “I love you too.” 

Then, before Santana can close the space between their lips, Brittany’s rolling them back over, settling between Santana’s legs and smirking. “I owe you like four bajillion congratulations orgasms.” 

Santana’s eyes go wide. “Four bajillion?” 

Brittany’s hand is already between them, sliding under the waistband of her sweatpants and under her panties. “You can count that high right?” 

Santana gulps, her hips thrusting towards the fingers now circling lightly. “We’ll find out I guess.” 

It’s Santana’s hands in Brittany’s hair now, pulling Brittany’s head down to put their mouths together. Brittany’s smiling into the kiss as her fingers press insistently against Santana’s clit, just enough to tighten arousal through her whole body. 

“Britt,” Santana pleads in between kisses. 

Long fingers slide down further until two of them are sliding in and up, slowly stretching Santana with a pleasurable ache. Santana sighs into the feeling, lifts her right leg up to wrap around Brittany’s hip. “Shit, that’s good,” she murmurs. 

From then on all Santana’s aware of is thrusting fingers curling up in all the right ways as her arousal races to the finish line. Brittany’s thumb is pushing against her clit, swirling in circles as her fingers move. 

She can’t help but move her hips in time with Brittany, her hands still gripping in blonde hair as she groans hotly into Brittany’s mouth. 

When she comes, she gasps as the tension in her entire body releases and returns to earth to the sound of Brittany whispering  _one_  into her ear.


End file.
